Stormy Valentine
by TheYummyPencil
Summary: Logan treats a lonely Storm to his own halfass brand of romance on Valentines' Day!


**Author's Note: It is a stormy Valentines' Day at the Mansion when Ororo ends up with no chocolate, flowers or even a stupid dinky little card! Logan is not a big fan of the day either, but for the sake of the kids who **_**don't**_** want to spend their Valentines' cowering in fear of lightning bolts, he decides to take her out for his own uncouth brand of romance. **

**This is a Storm-Logan, set before X3. It's slightly OoC on Storm's part but hey! She's a woman as much as she's a teacher. And all women hate empty Valentines' Days!**

Stormy Valentine 

Every teen and preteen stared gloomily out the windows of the Mansion that afternoon, cringing whenever the lightning struck with frightening zeal or thunder rattled the windowpanes. It was common knowledge throughout the place that Storm was _pissed _and she was not about to let everyone else enjoy a day of love and frolicking while she went flower and candy-less. As upset as the children were, no one had the guts to take a trip upstairs and tell Storm to get over herself.

Not even Rogue, whose only motivation for doing such a thing would be to get Jubilee, Kitty and co. to shut up about their 'special day' being ruined. That, however, was motivation enough for Marie to use her connections to try and stop this pitiful display of emotional instability.

"Hi, Logan," she said airily, leaning against the kitchen island at which he sat, munching a sandwich and apparently oblivious to everyone's misery. Maybe she should reconsider the friends thing, Rogue mused as she watched him. Logan made loneliness look great. Then again, he was the poster boy for emotional instability.

"Hey," he said through his baloney. "What do you want?"

"Help," she said, running a hand through her red and white hair. "I need you to get up there and tell Storm to chill. Figuratively, I mean. She's ruining the day for everybody."

Logan cocked an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're for this soppy Valentines' crap," he said gruffly.

"_I'm not._ But my friends are. And they won't stop venting about it and I really don't give a shit!"

He chuckled a little. "And you think I can stop her? Be all sensitive and caring? She'll laugh in my face and then zap me! And I am not in the mood for pain today."

"Oh, come on!" Rogue slapped his muscular shoulder encouragingly. "You two have so much in common." He snorted loudly. "You do! For starters, you're the only single adults in the mansion. It's true!" she added when she saw his expression. "Even Xavier got a booty call from _an old friend _today You have to help her, Logan. Help me! My ears are starting to bleed from all the bitching out there."

He sighed. "I ain't a romantic, Rogue! I haven't got a drop of romance in me."

"How do you know until you've tried?"

He rolled his eyes, contemplated his empty plate for a moment and then shrugged.

"I'll give it a shot." Rogue clapped appreciatively. "But if I _do_ get electrocuted," he pointed a foreboding finger. "The guilt's on your shoulders, candy cane."

Logan knocked on Ororo's bedroom door for some five minutes before issuing an annoyed grunt and walking in. He had never been in her room before. It was spacious, larger than his he noted (with mild resentment) and decked out in blacks, beiges and browns, African tribal masks and silver-framed photos. He liked it. It was classy, something he wasn't used to at all.

The place was as dark, and illuminated on the balcony was Storm. She wore a black dress, like she had somewhere to go and her hands gripped the stone railing. Before her, the tempest raged and she stood, face turned to the skies, completely in control and yet completely out if it. It was pretty scary, in a hot kind of way.

Logan approached carefully, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He eyed her from inside the balcony doors for a moment before speaking. "Hey, Storm." She whipped round immediately, eyes glowing white and lips pursed in defiance.

"What?" The thunder seemed to send a tremor through the very air.

He grimaced. "Could you uh…" he gestured vaguely to the sky. "Ease up a little with the…_storminess_? You're killing the day for everybody else."

"Good," she spat and turned back around.

He took a slow step forward, careful to keep approximately three feet of distance.

"Come on, Ororo," he said with his best attempt at sympathy. "Why are you being like this?"

"Date cancelled," she said shortly. "Again."

He hesitated. "I'm uh…sorry to hear that. But your whole Valentines' Day doesn't have to revolve roses or candy, does it? And obviously…" another step. "The guy's an idiot. You shouldn't get all het-up about him."

"I haven't been _intimate_ with anyone in _six months_, Logan. I am _more_ than het-up."

"_Okay_," he murmured, not knowing how else to reply.

She groaned and turned back around suddenly. It was a halter dress that clung to her form so vigorously she may as well have been naked. _Naked_, Logan mused. He liked that word"What's so wrong with me, Logan? Am I that intimidating?"

A stab of lightning struck unnervingly close to the balcony and Logan refrained from an enthusiastic "Yeah! You are!"

"'_Course not_," he settled on. "Some guys just don't know a good thing when it hits them with a lightning bolt. _I_, on the other hand," he closed the gap to one foot, "am not one to let a pretty lady pass me by. So would you be so kind as to join me for a trip around town?"

He had no idea where the hell he was going to take this woman. All he knew was he had a bike and the storm was swiftly receding. So he had done good.

"I am an attractive woman," said Storm, more to herself than to Logan.

He nodded earnestly over his shot-glass. "That you are!" He tilted his head back and poured what felt like liquid fire down his throat. He was on his third. Storm had stopped counting. There was something sad and beautiful about seeing her there on the barstool, looking ready to either burst into tears or tear off her clothes.

"That I am!" she repeated and chugged hers. "So why am I alone?"

They had found a human hangout. It was a dingy sort of place. There seemed to be nothing on Earth at that moment that was _less_ romantic. But they did have little mints in a dish, which served as Logan's offering of candy. He even considered the potpourri in the bathrooms for a moment as a bouquet but then decided against it. They probably didn't have potpourri in these tacky places.

Storm had attracted the most attention as they strolled in, intentionally oblivious to the round, blood-shot eyes that tried desperately to X-ray vision their way through her leather jacket.

Once she was past her fourth drink, Logan had put a hand on the small of her back and let the claws slide out discretely as a message to anybody looking. So basically _everybody_ looking. He didn't know why he was being all possessive. It was probably the fact that she was the purtiest woman present tonight in her halter and knee-high boots. Also, she was completely out of it with vodka shots and who knew what would go down if she tripped and fell into the arms of some greasy, white trash trucker? Nothing pleasant, that was for sure.

Storm merely glanced back at his hand and shuffled closer to him on her bar stool, obviously longing for close contact with someone, even a hairy dog like himself. _Logan_ could not understand for the life of him why she was alone. He absently traced a finger over her shoulder, down her arm, noting the contrast of his rough hairy skin against her smooth dark one.

"You're not alone," he muttered. "You have a whole mansion of mutant freaks that loves you. And me."

"_And you_." She gave something halfway between a smirk and an earnest smile. "_Logan_." She shook her head slowly, wistfully. "Logan, Logan, Logan. I don't get how Jean stays away from you." She gracefully swung the stool around so that she faced him, her hands pressed down between her legs on the red leather of the seat.

"I don't get it either." He chugged his last, determined that these next moments should be at least semi-sober. He wanted to remember everything, every little thing about being with her. Because he knew once this night was over she would go back to being Ororo, well-spoken, uptight, Ororo, and he would be good ol' Logan. Uncouth, blunt, harsh even.

He heaved a heavy sigh and swerved round as well, so that their legs brushed against each other. "There's a lot I don't get. I'm stupid that way."

She nodded sympathetically and then tilted her head to one side. For a moment he was sure they were going to kiss. It seemed a certainty that one day he would feel that soft, plump lip between his teeth. Just once. But then she swiveled round again and hopped off the stool, sauntering to the old jukebox.

She leaned against it, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, giving the few remaining patrons (and Logan) the idea that she did not favor underwear on Valentines' Day. He repressed a groan at her exposed back. Alcohol made him want her a lot more than usual.

A few seconds later the music blared. _Man, I Feel Like A Woman _it was. How wonderfully blue-collar.

Storm's voice rose above Shania's as she half-strode, half-stumbled towards him, hips swaying and arms floating above her head. There was a cat-like glee about her face, which made Logan think they could never be together- him being such a dog.

She fell against him by the bar and wrapped her arms around his neck, eyes closed as she swayed. He wrapped his arms around her waist and felt just ridiculous enough to sing along.

"_The best thing about bein' a woman_." His dulcet tones were far less pleasant, but not unbearable in such drunken states.

"_Is the prerogative to have a little fun and_…" She jerked her shoulders in time with the beat.

She was free, he was free and as stupid as they looked it did not matter.

By the time Storm flopped back on the bar it was late. The remaining patrons, predominantly male, had filtered out, disgruntled after finally figuring out the lady was taken. Even the bartender now looked restless as he scratched his stubble with a fat hand.

Logan knew the Cinderella moment would soon be over for them both. He stumbled towards the jukebox, not feeling quite as foggy as Storm looked and leaned against it as she had done. In the back of his mind he wondered if she was checking him out, too. All those butt-lifts would be paying off then.

But his predominant thought was, _what song_? What song would mean something? Really _mean_ something? A lyric that would live through the hangover and the feeling that they must put it all behind them and move away.

He found it, put in a coin, punched in the numbers.

Logan turned slowly. "Be prepared," he growled. "A very corny moment is coming on."

She didn't seem to understand for a moment before…

"_Whoooaaaa, my-y love! My darling…I hun-ger for your touch_…"

She suddenly looked as if her heart was breaking. "Oh, _Logan_," she murmured again. He noted how safe his name sounded coming from her lips.

As in a dream they drifted towards each other and were holding each other again.

"You should get me drunk more often," he heard her murmur against his chest.

"Shut up."

They could have fallen asleep like that. They could have died like that. But that was probably the alcohol taking its full effect…

Logan only managed to rouse himself around two o'clock that afternoon, after the curtains of his bedroom had been drawn abruptly and sunlight fought to get through his eyelids. He woke to the sight of Rogue, standing at a reasonable distance with her hands behind her back and her lips pursed.

"My Valentines' was marvelous, thank you," she said as soon as he had rubbed the crust from his eyes. "How was yours? You came back late." Her face threatened to give way to a smile.

"Don't go getting any ideas," he growled, blood pumping dully and painfully in his skull. "It wasn't a date. I was just trying to save the day and make her feel better. And it worked."

"And you're hero. But you know what would make her feel even better than better?" Rogue brandished a rose from behind her back suggestively.

"No," he said simply, rubbing his eyes.

"Why not?" she whined.

"Cause she'll think I'm all…in love with her."

Rogue gasped in mock horror. "_Gosh_! You are _right_! And then you might actually have a healthy, normal relationship! And we wouldn't want that now, would we?"

He rolled his eyes and flopped back down onto his pillow.

"I ain't a romantic."

"_It's okay_." She sauntered over to the bed and dropped the rose on his chest. "You're hot. She's desperate. You don't _need_ romance…"

Logan thought of all the ways he could give Storm her rose. With a card, or without? With chocolate, or without? On her pillow? In her underwear drawer?

He strolled into the kitchen, twirling it pensively in between his fingers. He did not notice Storm at the kitchen island, poring over a newspaper with a coffee mug in hand.

Without saying a word he darted for the fridge, yanked it open and hid the rose on a carton of yoghurt. _Smooth_.

He tried to look as cool as possibly as she watched him sit. She looked surprisingly pristine. One would think she had never had a whiff of alcohol in her life.

"Morning," he said gruffly.

"Morning." She went back to her newspaper. Silence.

"Nice weather we're having, huh?" _Very smooth._

"Very. I need milk."

She slid off her stool abruptly and Logan resisted the urge to cry, "_Noooooooooo_!" as she made for the fridge.

She stood searching the fridge for a few moments before she paused.

"_Hm_," she issued the curious noise and reached up towards the yoghurt. "A rose in a fridge."

She was back at the island, twirling it as if it belonged to her. Which it did. But he wasn't about to admit it.

"Did you do this?" she inquired, a small smile playing on her lips.

He cleared his throat hastily. "_Nah_. I'm not one for romance."

Storm's eyes widened in mock horror. "_I never would've thought._" She smelt and examined it deliberately.

Finally, she looked at him and invisible hands seemed to squeeze his heart.

"I had a good time, Logan."

He shrugged, averting his eyes. "Well, if you don't have a date next Valentines', gimme a call."

He hopped off the stool hastily and made his way out of the kitchen, trying to maintain his own brand of dignity.

"_Logan_." He stopped in the doorway and turned. "Conveniently enough," she was smiling and he didn't feel like such an idiot anymore. "I don't have a date tonight. If you feel up to rescuing me again."

He cocked a haughty eyebrow. "I feel up to it."


End file.
